To Binge
by abottomfeederjustlikeme
Summary: That shattered feeling, well they call it "It's a lesson learned." The events of Adam's life leading up to his eventual capture by Amanda Young. Beginning 4 months before his inescapable fate.


Adam had walked quite far in the last 2 years he had owned his shoes. Two years and not a lot had happened in his life. Hiding from the landlord, delaying paying the rent while he wasted it on cigarettes and cheap booze, running around and stalking people and taking photos of them for a lousy pay, last summer he even did some unfortunate kid's 8th birthday party where the small guy had been placed in quite an unfortunate looking red jumper. The shoes weren't important to Adam as other personal attachments would be, but they always got him where they needed to go, one hole in the right tie and 3 scraggly pairs of shoe laces later. But these shoes were no longer of use to the photographer as they were taken off him and a cold, rusty chain was attached to his bare ankle instead, a chain that would never leave him as he would never leave. The drug addict set up the scene with the dying cancer patient media had romanticised as the 'Jigsaw Killer', putting Adam's photos in place, the doctor already lay in position. It was a struggle for the weak girl but she managed to get Adam's slack body into the cold grubby bathtub. Leaving John to lie down, Amanda left and turned off the light. The game would begin in half an hour

The newly purchased clock which stood glimmering in comparison to the rest of the bathroom ticked away the time slowly and surely before Adam's head slowly slipped underwater, causing the man to wake suddenly to a potential drowning. Freaking out and having no clue to what was going on, he screamed out under the water, gargling away as he tried to reach the surface in his half conscious struggle. Pulling the plug out of the tub with his foot, he managed to splutter his way to the surface and gasp for air, clambering out of the tub and into the darkness. No memory of how he got there came to the apathetic man's mind, but soon it would all become clear. The painstaking hours of tape listening, toilet searching, saw breaking, phone answering, photo finding, x discovering, fake dying and electrocution took place before Adam remembered how he got there. A pig..a guy in a pig mask had snuck in and now he was at the mercy of a killer, the jigsaw killer.

* * *

4 Months Prior-

**"Stanheight! Get your scrawny fucking ass out here right now before I make you regret you had an ass to begin with!"**

The shrill voice of a man Adam had come to hate is what drove him from his alcohol induced coma. Blinking a murky daylight into his eyesbr /span/spanhe swallowed a bad taste and sighed heavily, a lethargic hand shadowing his head as he felt it thump away. This was the last thing the young photographer needed right now, what the fuck did that guy even wa-

_Oh shit. Shit. Rent. Fuck. Fuck this._

These and similar thoughts raced through Adam's mind as he forced himself up from the couch he had been nestled in.  
Wiping drool from his mouth, he clumsily stood up, shirt sleeve halfway down one arm and the other side tucked into his  
tattered trousers. He looked like shit but most importantly he felt like shit. The evidence of the previous night's activities lay all over the dirty wooden floor, empty cans of cheap beer strewn like corpses on a battlefield of a very one -sided. But this was a battle Adam _definitely_ did not feel worth fighting. Especially with a roaring-

**"You hear me in there, you motherfucker? If you don't open this door, I'm gonna come in there and open your fucking head!"**

He was such a pleasant landlord, he really was. The overweight, 5ft 3 man with a face of a pitbull wouldn't stop barking outside Adam's door unless he got what he wanted. What he wanted was always money which was something Adam just didn't have. To his memory he may just have two dollars and a whole heap of change lying around his shithole somewhere but at this moment, he just wanted the banging to stop. He just _knew_ that the guy outside his door was holding his shotgun. The thing is about Trent, the landlord, was that that pathetic excuse for Jabba the Hutt's scrotum had never fired that gun, he most likely didn't know _how_ to fire that gun and it's never had any bullets - or a license for that matter. But one thing itt was good for was smashing people around the head. Especially Adam, who was not surprised he hadn't been put in hospital yet by _that motherfucker who would not just SHUT UP._ Doesn't he have a key or something?

_Shit,_ he had a key. This thought only came to the man's mind now who was fumbling around for an answer of what to do. Shit. Adam went to move but kicked over a Wall-Mart's worth of cheap ass beer cans which rattled around the room and his mind like a bunch of fucking steel-pan drums. So that's where his rent had gone. Cheep booze, cigarettes and a fuck tonne of film and ink. Yay. Maybe if he made a run for it, it wouldn't be too bad? Where the fuck would he go, though? He was four floors up, he couldn't jump out the window. Or he could - but he really didn't feel like dying today despite the pounding pain in his head. Maybe he could sweet-talk his way out of it? Bluff? No, he'd get his head smashed in before he could do anything.

Before he had time to come up with a plan, the sweaty balding ex-snooker player burst into the scene, shotgun in his arms. Like a wide-eyed deer with a hunter, Adam froze on sight, his black mess of hair looking like he'd just been caught up in a tornado. But he hadn't seen any disaster yet, not like what was to come if he didn't- Possibly the shortest ever, and most pathetic, pursue entailed thanks to his crappy small apartment, a bunch of beer cans and a race to his dark-room, well the room he was using as a dark room anyways. He slammed his door shut, grabbing the handle as hard as he could and pulled it towards him; the two caught in a meager tug-of-war between the two participants. With no where to go, Adam looked around him to see some of the pictures he had hung up the previous night had fallen onto the floor and had been neglected. And that's what caused him his letting go, Trent barreled through the door as the young photographer fell right on his ass but was grabbed by the landlord's fat sweaty hand and dragged up to his feet from the beer-stained collar of his shirt

"H-hey, man! Long time no see huh?" He said with a weak laugh, trying to pull away. "Watch where you're putting your hand you motherfu- **HEY!**" Adam yelled as he was smacked round the head with the gun. This was not his day. "Look, I know you're pissed. _Really pissed_, I mean, I'd be pissed if I were you too. I suck. Ok? But look, I've got a proposition for you. It'd be worth your time and I think you'd like it. I mean, when I was in your office the other day I saw-"

That brought another smack around the head and the previously aforementioned scrawny ass of Adam Stanheight was shoved back violently against the wall.

**"What the FUCK were YOU doing in MY office, you little bitch?!"**The low growl of the small man spat at Adam as he tried to struggle free. This was how he was going to die. Well shit. Shit Shit SHIT. He wanted to scream like a little girl but it'd do no good, no one would hear.

"Look- that's ow- another story for another time, ok? I was just.. you know those magazines you got? The playboy ones? You into all your sick candid shots, right? I'm a fucking photographer! I can get you those kinda shots for free- seriously! Anything you want, I'll get it! Just get off me! No more paying for your maga-" he stopped speaking as he was thrown to the floor by the man, who glared at him. Well, one eye glared at him. The glass one just kinda stared up at the ceiling.

"You can get me those kind of shots? Girls?" He asked, voice still as threatening as it had been before.

"Oh yeah! Tonnes. Got contacts.. Yeah." Adam lied through his teeth but if it'd get him in the clear he'd try his best. The tiny giant nodded, taking a moment to think about it.

"Tomorrow. I want them on my desk by tomorrow and you don't tell anyone. And I'm fucking warning you, if they're no good you're dead."

"Yep. I'm dead. Loud and clear.. Loud and clear- we done here you fat fuck-?"

That earned another smack but it was so worth it as the imp of a man trotted out of the room quickly, slamming the front door shut with a BANG and Adam lay down on the floor and rubbed his temple. Now he was really in some deep shit. Where the hell was he gonna get these shots? And by tonight? He looked up at the ceiling, mind pounding and he just wanted to puke. He closed his eyes and thought, laying there under the pictures he had taken of some guy with some stupid chic- That was it! Adam picked up the pictures laying under him and flicked through them.. No no.. no.. None of them were any good.

"Fuck..." he breathed outloud to himself as he just stared up, looking at nothing. What the hell was he going to do now?


End file.
